Voices
by McGregor O'Brien ap Rhys
Summary: First, they were murmuring, like voices underwater. Then they were whispering, words eaten away by the wind. Then they were talking, right behind him. But before all that, they were screaming. tw: hints of mental disorders, suicide, and non-con.
1. Murmuring

**Trigger Warning:** mental disorders, hallucinations, drug use, suicide, and non-consensual sex

**Voices**

_Murmuring_

"Wrong foot," said Master Drallig, and Obi-Wan glanced behind him.

The instructor was helping Garen with his grip on the training sabre, Obi-Wan can see him talking, but he can't hear what the Master was saying.

He shook his head, stared forward and swung his sabre.

It was an accident - a twitch in his right foot - as he stumbled forward and accidentally hit Bruck.

After that, the boy had taken to calling him Oafy-Wan.

* * *

Obi-Wan was late for a lecture, the stress of not being chosen as a padawan had caused plenty of stress and sleeping troubles, as there was only a year left before he turned thirteen.

Bruck was sneering at him, and Obi-Wan avoided the other boy's gaze because he didn't want to deal with the light-haired boy's bantha crap today. Garen was giving him worried glances, fidgeting a little in his seat.

Obi-Wan bowed towards their twi'lek instructor, vocalising an apology, before moving towards the empty seat next to his best friend, right behind his dreaded rival. He passed by Bruck, and he gritted his teeth when he heard the boy snigger.

"You alright?" Garen turned to him slightly, voice low.

"Nightmares," Obi-Wan said.

"What a baby!" Bruck's voice was loud, but not loud enough for the Jedi Knight to hear.

Obi-Wan clenched his fists, biting the inside of his cheek because he didn't want to show his anger and frustration - it was difficult enough to keep control of his moods these days, and he didn't want to give any prospective masters a reason not to choose him as an apprentice.

He looked up, and Bruck was writing in his holopad (more like doodling), slouching and resting his head on his hand. Obi-Wan turned to Garen, who was now dutifully taking notes as well, but sent him worried glances, and Obi-Wan licked his lips and bought out his holopad to do the same.

An hour later, they were in a different room in the Temple.

Obi-Wan yawned, exhausted, but it was in the middle of kata practise so he wasn't allowed to sleep. Besides, Bruck, was present, he'd rather not be teased for falling asleep while standing up.

"He's such a bully." He heard Garen mutter behind him, and the redhead nodded in agreement.

* * *

Eight months before his thirteenth birthday, yet the pressure and stress were at their highest. There were times that Obi-Wan couldn't sleep because he couldn't stop imagining scenario after scenario where he would be sent off to some desolate planet, dying of famine because the Force wasn't enough to sustain life in these places.

Maybe he wasn't meant to be a Jedi in the first place, and the Council was just being nice to him so they hadn't kicked him out yet.

He turned to one side, staring at the line of light beneath the curtains of the crèche, counting the dust that gathered on the floor.

_'I have to sleep, there are classes tomorrow morning...' _Obi-Wan thought to himself, his tally of dust was one hundred twenty three. "'Undretythree," he muttered, frowning.

He really should sleep, his mouth was awfully dry and he ended up mixing a few words. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he'd be encouraged to sleep?

So Obi-Wan did just that, and Garen accidentally throwing a bag of crisps at Reeft popped up in his mind's eye, so he giggled at the image.

If only the scenarios and ideas stopped coming to him at unnecessary times like these, sleeping would have been easier. Obi-Wan yawned and then sighed, sleep still far from reach.

He started counting bantha inside his head, imagining them jumping over a fence. Then again, it was rare that farmlands used fences nowadays, preferring shield generators and plasma walls over them. There are planets like Tatooine, though, that doesn't have the technology, but they used natural terrain as boundaries and kept sentries instead.

Speaking of sentries, Obi-Wan wondered what happened to the old ones that used to patrol the Temple entrance, seeing as they were replaced not too long ago. The new ones were-

"Go to sleep," Garen said, and Obi-Wan frowned because he didn't realise he was keeping his best friend up.

"Sorry," he whispered, remembering that he had mental shields and he was probably projecting so he woke Garen up. There was a groan, definitely Garen, and Obi-Wan turned to his side and pretended to sleep.

"What?" Obi-Wan thought he heard Garen said.

"For keeping you up?" Obi-Wan whispered back.

"Ngh...," Garen replied, groggy. "Keeping me what now? Just go to sleep."

* * *

Notes: So! This has three parts, the first one obviously goes on from before Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon, another one is after meeting Qui-Gon, and another would be the movie verse. There's an additional part before Obi-Wan was taken to the temple just as well.

According to Tarantino's words of wisdom, all stories have a beginning, a middle, and an end - not exactly in that order.

Also, all mistakes are mine because this was not beta-read.


	2. Whispering

**Trigger Warning:** mental disorders, hallucinations, drug use, suicide, and non-consensual sex.

* * *

**WARNING (THIS IS A LONG LIST OF WARNINGS):**

_**WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT TREAT YOURSELF IF YOU HAVE A FEELING YOU HAVE A PSYCHOLOGICAL DISORDER - ALWAYS CONSULT A PROFESSIONAL PSYCHOLOGIST/PSYCHIATRIST. NEVER SELF-MEDICATE IF YOU ARE DIAGNOSED WITH A MENTAL DISORDER, OR IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE ONE.**_

_**DO NOT TREAT OTHERS IF YOU ARE NOT A CERTIFIED PROFESSIONAL. DO NOT PRESCRIBE MEDICATIONS TO OTHERS AS WELL IF YOU ARE NOT A CERTIFIED PROFESSIONAL.**_

_**IF YOUR FRIEND HAS A MENTAL DISORDER THAT YOU JUST FOUND OUT - INFORM THEIR LEGAL GUARDIAN OR FAMILY OR WHOEVER IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR WELLBEING. **_

_**IF THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR WELL BEING IS YOU, CONSULT A PROFESSIONAL PSYCHOLOGIST/PSYCHIATRIST. **_

_**DON'T TELL SOMEONE WITH A PSYCHOLOGICAL DISORDER TO 'GET OVER IT' OR TO 'STOP BEING OVERDRAMATIC' OR SOMETHING SIMILAR TO THAT EFFECT, ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE HAVING AN EPISODE.**_

_**IF SOMEONE IS EXHIBITING PARANOID BEHAVIOUR DURING AN EPISODE, DO NOT EVEN TRY ARGUING AGAINST THEM AS IT WILL ONLY FORCE THEM INTO BELIEVING THAT YOU ARE TRYING TO 'HURT' OR 'GET' THEM.**_

_**COMFORT THEM AND ASSURE THEM OF THEIR SAFETY.**_

_**THERE ARE RELIABLE SITES IN THE INTERNET LIKE THE 'NATIONAL INSTITUTE OF MENTAL HEALTH' ( ) AND 'TEEN MENTAL HEALTH' THAT CAN HELP YOU IF YOU HAVE A MENTAL DISORDER, OR IF YOU HAVE A FRIEND THAT HAS ONE.**_

_**ALSO PSYCHCENTRAL (add a dot com)**_

_**IF YOU ARE EXHIBITING SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR OR IF YOUR FRIEND OR SOMEONE (ANYONE) IS EXHIBITING SUICIDAL BEHAVIOUR, CONSULT THIS WEBSITE:**_

_**(Tripple 'W' then dot) SUICIDE (period) ORG (SLASH) SUICIDE-HOTLINES (add a dot then html)  
**_

* * *

**Voices**

_Whispering_

"Where did you get that?" Master Qui-Gon asked, looking at the set of pills in his apprentice's hand.

"It's from the infirmary, here's the form." And the Head Healer's and Master Yoda's signature was enough proof for the Jedi master to believe his new apprentice. "They're to help me sleep."

There were five of them in the boy's hand, two were perfectly circular (light peach and white), two were shaped like capsules (both white), and the last one was spherical. Qui-Gon was sure that if a master took an apprentice, they would receive the apprentice's medical files - which usually included allergies, medical history, history of diseases with relatives, and current condition and if there was medication needed. Maybe this was new? Considering Obi-Wan's list of allergies, Qui-Gon shouldn't have been surprised.

"There are notes about intake here too."

Qui-Gon took the prescription.

All of the pills have to be taken daily, but one of them lowered the patient's bone marrow production so Obi-Wan needed a blood test every week - the side effect was that his white blood cell count lowered significantly which made him open to all sorts of infection.

As Qui-Gon read through the various instructions, his brow kept rising - three of them have a common side-effect: stiffness in muscles. The other two were to counter those side-effects.

Qui-Gon then turned to Obi-Wan, "do you even want to take them?"

The boy fidgeted, looking at the pills with an intent expression. Qui-Gon blinked, for a second there, he thought that... Never mind.

Obi-Wan sighed and took them all in at once.

Qui-Gon made a sound in alarm, and then Obi-Wan grabbed the glass of water he prepared, drank to help the pills down, and then coughed when a bit of water lodged in his throat.

Well, the older man was about to suggest that mediation would help, but there was something in Obi-Wan's eyes that looked desperate. His medical file did say he had a horrid case of insomnia for about a year, and Qui-Gon felt sorry that someone so young had to go through that.

It was rather sad that the Force could not help with conditions like these. "Well, if we follow this regularly, you'd get back lost sleep."

Obi-Wan smiled, tiredly, "I hope so."

* * *

Xanatos was curious, the Jedi Council has been doing a lot of Master-Apprentice matchmaking this lately.

(Not exactly, it was more of a matter on _who_ was involved in the matchmaking.)

Bandomeer had the AgriCorps, and Qui-Gon and the prospective initiate were going there. Why not use this opportunity to mess with the Council and his good ol' Master?

It wasn't hard to isolate the boy and end up with some time alone with him. Also, the boy's name was Obi-Wan.

Huh, the Temple's bedside manners probably lacked a great deal during Xanatos's absence. Obi-Wan Kenobi had dark circles beneath his eyes, his hands were clasped together but they were twitching involuntarily, and the boy was curled into himself into a foetal position - his knees up to his chests while he rocked himself with the balls of his feet. Obi-Wan's gaze locked on to Xanatos, but they darted around the interior of his office in suspicion and fear, and yet his expression had a strange blankness to it. His lips formed words, and Xanatos could hear a few distinct ones, but none of them made sense at all. The boy was definitely out of it.

Kenobi looked pathetic, Xanatos admitted reluctantly. It would have been fun if Kenobi looked at him in defiance, concealing his fear by pretending to be a proud Jedi, but he looked more like a cornered animal than a budding Knight. On the other hand, Xanatos had a feeling that what he was looking at was exactly he thought it to be.

Xanatos may like to think himself ruthless, but he's not _that_ heartless. There were things beyond the Force's reach, and this... condition was definitely a nightmare for Kenobi.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Xanatos said in a calming tone, glad that his charisma and silver tongue were just effective, and he wasn't surprised if the boy regarded him with more suspicion. However, it got Kenobi to listen, instead of blocking him out.

"See?" He took off his midnight blue cloak, showing that his only weapon was the sabre, and he didn't mourn the loss of the blade when he put it on top of his cloak. Still, the initiate looked unconvinced, closing into himself (but Xanatos wasn't fooled, Kenobi would spring like a frightened nexu, snarling and spitting and clawing, when Xanatos closed the distance at the current state Kenobi was in) and refused to let his gaze wander off from the fallen Jedi.

The cloak with the sabre was kicked at the far side of the room, away from both occupants. Can't have giving Kenobi a weapon, after all.

"Is this another test that I'm going to fail?" Obi-Wan asked with narrowed eyes, and Xanatos would have applauded at the bite in Kenobi's voice if he wasn't shaking like a leaf. "Are you like Bruck? You don't want me to be a Jedi too?"

"I don't care about that," Xanatos said. "I just want to help."

True enough. Kenobi was in no state to be wandering around in Bandomeer, and Xanatos had a feeling that AgriCorps won't provide the help the boy actually needed.

"Shut up!" Obi-Wan hissed, glaring. "You're lying!"

As much as Xanatos honestly hated doing something like this, it had to be done.

Obi-Wan's condition was a long term one, better get the papers ready then.

This was already a good investment for his vengeance against Qui-Gon.

"Say, Obi-Wan, do you want the bad voices to go away?"

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the kind of apprentice that easily got ill (no thanks to those pills) and he was also the type that ended up with more injuries than anyone can account for (again, pills).

He sometimes stopped the intake of the one that lowered his WBC count, but Qui-Gon could see that it made Obi-Wan anxious for some reason.

Lethargy being a side-effect was no surprise, but Obi-Wan's metabolism went haywire. According to his files, he can eat enough to feed a small army, but he rarely put on weight. This time though, he needed to exercise twice as much because his body can't burn whatever he ate (even it was just a quarter of what Obi-Wan usually had, and the lessened volume met less than forty percent of how much nutrition Obi-Wan needed) and Obi-Wan 'didn't want to get fat'.

It was really worrying, because Obi-Wan ended up malnourished, and his pills increased (now including supplements, vitamins, calcium, the whole nine yards) because of it.

Qui-Gon wondered just when did Obi-Wan had the time for checkups? Because he had been monitoring the teen since they arrived in Coruscant.

(No missions just yet at the first two weeks, but Obi-Wan's lethargy and diminished immune system turned two weeks into three months and the lack of improvement turned it into a whole year, and for some reason, the Healers were giving Qui-Gon plenty of disapproving gazes when they see Obi-Wan. Shouldn't they know about the side-effects too?)

It was around the fourth month, practising sabre forms in the training areas when Qui-Gon noticed something was wrong.

Only a few people used this training salle at this time of the day, but word and rumours did spread fast after that.

Obi-Wan woke up groggy and lethargic (surprise, surprise), obviously lacking the motivation to train. Motivation to make breakfast, leave their shared flat, _wake up _even. Still, Qui-Gon sent him reassurances using the Force, calling the calming waves and warmth to envelope the boy's mind.

That should have been Qui-Gon's first red flag.

Obi-Wan visibly stiffened, the beginnings of an exhausted smile on his face turned blank, and Qui-Gon noticed his right hand twitch at the corner of his vision. Then, mental shields rose, and Qui-Gon blanched at the suddenness of their existence, and the intensity of how strong he was shoved away from Obi-Wan.

"Is there something wrong?" Qui-Gon asked, holding his tongue, just so he didn't end up scolding the boy with his misuse of the Force.

Nothing, I'm fine," said Obi-Wan's monotonous voice. A shudder ran down Qui-Gon's spine.

Well, if Obi-Wan wanted his privacy then... That doesn't mean this was over though.

They ate, but it was a lot more like Obi-Wan playing with his food. Qui-Gon cleared his throat, and he raised a brow when his Padawan almost jumped off his seat in surprise.

Obi-Wan took two bites before he headed to the fresher to take his pills. Ten minutes later, Qui-Gon was helping Obi-Wan through meditation, eyes closed and cross legged in the parlour floor.

"Peace," Qui-Gon said, reaching out to Obi-Wan through the training bond, and he frowned when he met an impenetrable wall. Not exactly impenetrable, as Obi-Wan didn't realise the tiny cracks, but the will and power behind the wall was impressive nonetheless.

Still Qui-Gon reached out, easily slipping through the cracks and-

_-murmuring, voices distinct as if underwater, there was no coherence and it was all a jumble of familiar and unfamiliar voices muttering all at once, monotonous and dull, yet an underlying current of fear flowed and it was everywhere andtheywereouttogethimandpleaseshutupgoawayamireallyworthlessbecauseMasterQui-Gonwon'tlookatmeintheeyeandmystomachisachingandI'mhungrybutwe'remeditatingwhat'sBantdoingightnowGarenisagood-_

_**"GET OUT!"**_

And reality slammed back into Qui-Gon and he almost jumped from his position.

That should have been the second warning.

"Obi-Wan!" The boy was staring, seemingly unaware of what lurked within his own mind. Qui-Gon knew that one of the Order's tenets was to show no anger or fear, but Obi-Wan was just a boy, thus an exception. Even then, shouldn't something like that terrify him?

"Are we finished, Master?" Qui-Gon would have scolded Obi-Wan for the disrespectful wording, but the whole day felt like a disaster right from the beginning, so he let it go.

So, Qui-Gon took the calm approach.

"We are, and we could move on to our next order of activity- training sabre forms. We've already progressed to the second kata." If Obi-Wan wasn't always ill, they would studying the fourth kata by now.

Obi-Wan looked out of it as they walked through the halls, gaze darting around the walls and floors. He spoke little and he remained uncannily expressionless. The air around him buzzed with a strange tension, and the mental image of flies feasting on rotting flesh came into mind.

Qui-Gon sighed, because Master Yoda said that Obi-Wan would be a balm to his wounds, not infection to fester the flesh. At times like these, Obi-Wan was exactly that.

There was little fanfare in their arrival in the salle, and Obi-Wan took twice the time to finish his warmups.

The third red flag was this:

"Who was that?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly, sabre raised high in mid-swing, he glanced around the salle, and then met Qui-Gon's questioning gaze.

"Something wrong?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, "I thought that... Never mind."

So they went on. Qui-Gon releasing his frustrations to the Force every now and then, since Obi-Wan had the tendency to twitch when moving. Then there were the short... pauses, where he would suddenly stop all of the sudden, searching for... something, before continuing.

Two hours before they have to depart for lunch, Qui-Gon heaved a deep breath and ordered Obi-Wan to stop.

"We still have an hour to go?" was Obi-Wan's way of asking for the early stop.

"Well, it's pretty obvious that you don't seem to have the energy to train, or the focus," Qui-Gon began. "You've been distracted before we began, so it would be better if we rest instead."

"Why?" Obi-Wan pressed.

No more coddling, Qui-Gon supposed. "The traits that make you a valuable Knight, a Jedi, which are focus, calm, and will... they are on need of development in your case, Obi-Wan."

"So I'm no good then?" Obi-Wan accused, eyes narrowed.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "No, I did not say that. What I said is that you need to learn how to focus better, amongst other things."

"But that's what you meant, didn't you? I'm no good to become a Jedi, and I'm worse than your last Padawan!" Obi-Wan continued, voice rising.

"No, Padawan mine, I was only pointing out traits that can be improved. You have the potential to become one of the greatest Knights the Order will see, we just need to tap that potential."

"You're lying!" Qui-Gon could feel his brows furrow in frustration. "You're just like him, them! You're just saying that!"

"Alright, Obi-Wan, why do you think I'm lying?" The buzzing around Obi-Wan intensified, and Qui-Gon could feel the fear emanating from the boy in palpable waves. It was a strange sort of fear, almost crippling in its intensity, it was the same kind of fear a wounded animal projected before they realised they were about to die.

"You're all lying, and you're just pretending to help me because Master Yoda will make you leave the Order, but you'll leave me when someone better comes along or when you can't be kicked out!"

"Obi-Wan, you and I both know that's not true, just where did you get these ideas?"

The answer was quick.

"In Bandomeer, you just took me as your apprentice because you want to prove to Xanatos that I'll turn out better because he said you'll ruin me! And you didn't want me the first time, but Master Yoda _made_ you, but all of you are thinking the same!"

Obi-Wan was stepping backward hugging himself and trembling. His eyes now shone with fear so openly, and his lips quivered as he talked.

"Look, I'm just trying to help." Qui-Gon felt out of his depth, confused what set off his apprentice to accuse him of these things. Granted, Qui-Gon didn't want Obi-Wan as an apprentice at first, but he already made it clear that it was on the past. The potential of their training bond was unmistakably there, and the Living Force had guided him to the boy - the boy knew or too. Just what was happening?

"Alright, why don't you open up the training bond to see what I really feel?" Qui-Gon suggested gently, if Obi-Wan's eyes weren't already wide, they would have grown wider.

"You're just using the training bond make me think that! But you can't fool me!" The other occupants were looking towards them, their activities forgotten as they watched in morbid curiosity.

Qui-Gon glanced around, more worried than embarrassed and Obi-Wan's behaviour. This was the first time it happened. Was the pressure too much on Obi-Wan? Or...

Was this a side-effect he didn't about from those pills?

"Alright, maybe that's true, but-"

"You haven't taken your pills for today, Obi-Wan."

* * *

"Someone's here," Obi-Wan said, pulling Reeft and Bant inside an empty classroom, glancing back at the shadow at the hall one last time before going in." It might be Bruck."

"I didn't sense anyone." Bant was frowning, peering at the door. Reeft nodded in agreement.

A month before his thirteenth birthday, and Obi-Wan felt like he's losing his mind.

Garen and Bant always told him to go to the healers or get some sleep, since he jumped at the barest hint of a shadow. It was becoming rather common for him to watch out for Bruck wherever he went, hiding away wherever he can at the slightest hint of the bully's presence. It was one of those times, when he thought Bruck was out to antagonise him so he avoided it by hiding.

"What if it isn't Bruck?" Reeft asked, tapping his foot. He and Bant exchanged worried glances when the boy pulled her away from the door and barred it with his back.

"You don't know that," Obi-Wan stressed, his tone dull (probably trying to hide his emotions using the Force), but Bant and Reeft can sense his fear.

Master Drallig, Master Yoda, Garen, Bant, Reeft - even Bruck, sometimes - can see that Obi-Wan's impending birthday put him under so much stress to the point that it was obvious that he probably slept less than an hour everyday. The dark circles under his eyes looked more like mottled bruises, and Obi-Wan's skin was sickly and pale that made his freckles look some sort of disease.

"Bruck has been giving you some slack, he can't be _that_ bad," Bant pressed on. It was true. There was no joy in beating down someone that didn't fought back, or in Obi-Wan's case, hid away like a wounded animal.

"That's what you think!" Obi-Wan snarled, and his eyes widened when he realised that both his friends jumped back and away from him in terror and surprise. He took a deep breath and tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm sorry, but you know Bruck. Just when you thought he's giving you peace, he's actually planning something."

"Um… I know that Bruck wants to be a Knight before you, but I don't think he'd do something… _that_ extreme, especially at the state you're in." Reeft tried to smile back reassuringly.

"Yeah, he looks like he's sorry for you too," Bant added, remembering that the other boy tried giving Obi-Wan a get-well card, but decided not to in the end. The bully tried having Garen give it to Obi-Wan, then Reeft, and then Bant, but they all told him to give it to Obi-Wan himself so that the boy would know how sincere he was.

Looking at Obi-Wan right now, that seemed like a bad idea.

"He's a good manipulator," Obi-Wan said in defiance. "He just has the Knights' and the Council wrapped around his finger, but he can't fool me."

Bant bit her lip, glancing toward the door and to Reeft, wondering if the other boy had a plan. Reeft looked just as confused as she did.

"Okay, but-"

"Shh! He's here!" And Obi-Wan pressed an ear to the door, huddled close. "He's talking to Aalto…. They're planning something."

There was no one outside.

* * *

"So, I'm crazy then," Obi-Wan's voice was heavy with lethargy, and Qui-Gon could feel his heart sink with despair.

The Dark Side of the Force was powerful and insidious. It planted seeds of doubt in the hearts and minds of those that touched It, and they bloomed when left to fester. The Dark Side twisted and reshaped the individual into something horrid - something abominable - and everything that was once good and Light were washed away by Its Evil.

This, was _not_ the Dark Side.

"Not exactly," Xanatos patted the boy, sitting next to him, the bed dipped beneath the older man's weight. "The chemicals in your brain are going haywire, secreting hormones and other neurotransmitters. The pills can't cure you, but it helps you cope."

Qui-Gon suppressed the desire to punch the Fallen Jedi senseless. It was no wonder that what happened after Bandomeer was too good to be true.

Imagine Qui-Gon's surprise when Xanatos himself disarmed the bomb that would have blown the planet into smithereens, out of 'goodwill' or so he said. Pushing Obi-Wan to Qui-Gon after he… _did_ something with the boy, giving him this… this… _disease._

"They… the voices, they said they were poison," Obi-Wan pleaded, eyes half-lidded with the after effects of drugs.

"When you take too much, but they're there to help."

Qui-Gon glared at his ex-apprentice, who gave him a smile (Qui-Gon had to do a double-take, was there… sadness there?) instead.

"Are they still bothering you? The voices?"

Obi-Wan shook his head.

"That's good. Remember, everyone in the Temple wants to help, and look here…." Xanatos picked something from the dresser next to the medbed. "It's from that boy, Chun. He's not actually going to hurt you, isn't he?"

It was a card, and Obi-Wan tried making himself small in his bed. Tears of guilt were already forming in his eyes, and he wiped them with his free hand.

"Sometimes, I don't know what's happening, and I'm just so… so… scared that everyone wants to hurt me, that everyone wants to see me fail so they can laugh at me… that everyone is pretending to be nice because they want to get me."

Xanatos smiled in sympathy. "It's okay. In fact, you have been pretty brave for the past year. Having to fight against your own mind like that - every day."

It must have been terrifying indeed, that the Force could not comfort Obi-Wan, that it was Obi-Wan's own mind that created these strange fears. The chemicals in his brain producing hormones turned dream into reality and reality into nightmares, the smallest hint of a shadow or a scratch in the wind amplified and morphed into a terror during the day. Why hadn't anyone noticed until it was too late? The idea of Jedi having to fight against their own mind, the element that the Force touched before it reached the soul… it was a different nightmare to immersing one's self to the Dark Side.

And the person who noticed it first and did something to help (albeit what he did was extremely unethical and was enough to revoke his medical license) was Xanatos, of all people.

"Well, an apology is in order." The Fallen Jedi stood up, and motioned for Qui-Gon to speak in private.

"First of all, I would like to discuss Obi-Wan's dietary habits…."

* * *

"Troubling news, this is," Master Yoda said gravely, nodding.

Master Yoda, Master Nu, and Master Dooku were all present in the high seats of the Council. At the center was Qui-Gon and his two (one former) apprentices, Obi-Wan and Xanatos.

"Perhaps… Obi-Wan's family are the best people to take care of him." Master Dooku looked at the boy in question, contemplative.

Obi-Wan's stare zeroed in on the aged Master, but his gaze snapped to Xanatos who suddenly laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you going to send him away just the neurotransmitters in his brain have problems?" Xanatos snapped.

"He could Fall at-"

"What about a psychopath then? If things were that simple, it would be easy to say that all psychopaths fall to the Dark Side, and everyone normal doesn't. How do you even define one anyway?"

"This is out of hand, Master Yoda-"

"Let the boy speak, Yan. Insight in his words, I sense," was the reply.

Xanatos took a deep breath, glancing towards his old master and then smiled assuringly at Obi-Wan.

It felt surreal, Qui-Gon thought to himself, to see his old apprentice who fell so deeply into greed and the Dark Side to be so… comforting. It reminded him of the old days - of the better days.

"If we are to understand what a psychopath is, in layman's terms: it's someone incapable of feeling empathy, remorse, and a good range of emotions. If you don't realise someone is a psychopath until later on, would you have him leave the Order? Even if, say… he killed a Sith, never touched the Dark Side - or if he did, it was fleeting and he never touched it ever again - that until the end of his life, he served the Order even if he was incapable of empathy."

Master Yoda looked contemplative, and Master Qui-Gon looked… unsure at the blatant display of disrespect on Xanatos's part.

"Ah, a strange situation indeed, there is no right or wrong answer to that, does it not? Hmm?"

"Still, the intentions may have no basis on what is right or wrong, what matters is that this… '_hypothetical' _Jedi touched the Dark Side. It's enough to warrant him to be branded as Fallen Jedi."

"But does that define him? Sure, maybe it _does…_ and people like him are _extremely dangerous_, but you would be throwing away what he did to contribute, won't you? He didn't hurt anyone innocent, he didn't raise his sabre unless it was in self-defense, hell - the only manipulations he probably did were to ensure his missions were successful without hurting anyone or to protect others even if he could not empathise with them."

Now, Qui-Gon had to look at Xanatos curiously. Was that the case? If so… Xanatos really seemed so….

Master Yoda stroked his chin. "Interesting case you raise, young Xanatos. Capacity to hurt he had, yet hurt he did not. Injustice indeed, it would be, to treat him as a villain."

"But Master! The boy's mind is his own enemy, surely it would be dangerous for the others-"

"Was it because he was born with something he didn't want?" Xanatos snapped, enraged. "If it was a kindhearted Hutt that has to become a Jedi, will you deny him? Just because Hutts are notorious for having criminal histories? Will you treat a Wookiee like an animal just because they sound like one?"

Then he turned to Master Yoda. "What about those twi'leks always sent to missions where they have to pose as dancers, strippers, hookers…. Is it because their history and culture as sexual species mean that that's the only thing they're capable of?"

"Xanatos, if I may…," Qui-Gon started gently, feeling that the situation was going out of hand. His past apprentice burned with a strange passion, there was anger and rage there, but….

The Dark Side was probably the last thing Xanatos was immersing himself into.

"No look. If someone is angry because they are hurt over and over again, it's not the Dark Side, it's a _normal reaction_ because you have the right _not to be hurt if you don't deserve it_! If someone is angered because someone they love was _killed in front of them_, I don't think having a tea party would be the first thing that comes into mind! Sure, the favour was _attempted_ to be returned, but bloody Sithing Hells, a little bit of _closure_ would have been sodding wonderful!"

There was an eerie silence in the Council Chambers, one Xanatos Onasi panting for breath, white-hot with fury. Obi-Wan seemed to have shrunk into himself, a little terrified at the display of anger Xanatos showed.

A few deep breaths later, he sighed and brushed back the hair that fell in front of his face. "I… wow, I needed that."

Albeit a little bewildering, it did look it gave Xanatos peace of mind. However, there was another issue at hand.

"So, just because Obi-Wan is schizophrenic… that doesn't mean he'll be violent, harmful, or _inherently evil_. And here I thought it was the duty of a Jedi to help those that need it and… I don't know… not _discriminate?_"

"Hmmm…." At the very least, Master Dooku looked rather… contemplative, which was a good sign in Qui-Gon's books.

Never had he thought that he would be glad to see Xanatos again.

"To go away, Obi-Wan was never meant to. His eating conditions, my primary concerns were."

"What is wrong with yo- wait what?"

"Stay, Obi-Wan Kenobi has always meant to be. Leave, an option, it never was."

To say that Obi-Wan's smile was blinding was an understatement.

* * *

Obi-Wan fiddled with the hem of his robe, one foot kicking a bit of the corner of the leg of the wooden chair he sat on, he was slouching and had his gaze on the floor. Xanatos sat parallel to him, hunched as well and hands on his lap, trying to meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

"How long have you had trouble sleeping?" Xanatos began, trying to smile as comfortingly as possible.

The boy was biting his lip, glancing to his side every now and then, as if expecting someone to jump him from behind. It didn't surprise Xanatos.

"Are they out there?" Obi-Wan asked instead, finally establishing eye-contact.

"You can check if you want. If there's someone, I'd see to it that they leave."

Obi-Wan looked assured - a good sign. He fidgeted in his seat, and then relaxed, leaning. Discreetly, Xanatos straightened, and relaxed on his chair as well.

"Almost a year ago, I think…," Obi-Wan answered, eyes darting to the side before reestablishing eye-contact. "And it was hard to concentrate, I mean…. Sometimes while practising sabre forms, I'd think about what would be for lunch, and then I remember that Reeft has strawberry allergies. Well, it's really bad, because he looked like he really wants to eat them when they're served, and he actually bought a hypo with him just so he can taste what they're like."

Xanatos tried reading Obi-Wan's expression, the inflection in his voice. Damn, it was difficult, the story sounded funny, but it was hard to tell if Obi-Wan thought it was humourous or worrying. Xanatos settled for something in the middle - he remained neutral.

"Oh? Xanatos pressed, encouraging. "That must have been the… _experience."_

Finally, Obi-Wan cracked a smile. "Yeah! Master Che had been so mad that she had the cooks ban Reeft from having chocolate!"

And Xanatos, seeing the genuine smile grace Obi-Wan Kenobi's face, felt higher than a kite.

* * *

**Notes: **I'm not sorry for the long list of warnings. It's something important and everyone should be aware of. Even if other people say that 'mental disorders are just excuses for etc, etc', it's better if you consult professionals instead. Why?

Even if people say it's just a 'money scam' or some other shit like that…. I'm pretty sure that the thousands, if not - millions, of cases of people having or knowing people that have Schizophrenia, both spectrums of the Bipolar Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Anxiety, Clinical Depression… would like to have a word with you.

Articles that say that every year, more cases of people having mental disorders are reported… THEY DO NOT MEAN THAT MODERN TECHNOLOGY, MEDICINE, AND WHAT EVER BULL SHIT LOGIC THEY SPEW FROM THEIR MOUTHS: CAUSE MENTAL DISORDERS!

It means, people are becoming aware of the signs and how to get help. If not, we're all probably just going to relieve through the witch trials _again._

There are various theorised factors that cause mental disorders, with history of mental disease in the family a considerable element, _**IT DOESN'T MEAN THAT MANY CERTIFIED MENTAL HEALTH PROFESSIONALS HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THEY ARE DOING.**_

Those cases of psychologists being the reason why a patient died: _**THEIR PRACTISE WAS UNETHICAL AND IT WOULD (IF IT ALREADY DIDN'T) CAUSE THE LOSS OF THEIR LICENSE TO DO THEIR PRACTISE. WHAT THEY HAD DONE ARE VIOLATIONS OF THEIR HIPPOCRATIC OATH, AND IF SEVERE ENOUGH - CAN BE CONSIDERED AS CRIMINAL OFFENSE.**_

So, to my readers…. If you're going to get help from mental health professionals, make sure you get help from somewhere reliable. Preferably an institution that have public documents of their cases (or reliable documents that referenced them, or conducted an article about/with them). If you're not sure, how to, Google is your friend.

Again, all mistakes are mine since this was not beta-read.


	3. Screaming

**Trigger Warning:** mental disorders, hallucinations, drug use, suicide, and non-consensual sex.

* * *

**Voices**

_Screaming_

Lorna Kenobi is eight and indignant when she Hamish pulled her hair and threw a spider at her face.

"Leave her alone," the new boy, Edmund, said then. Lips trembling and grey eyes watery with tears. "Me mum and da said it's not nice!"

Hamish, eight years old and with wide eyes narrowing in anger, pushed the smaller boy (a foreigner, southerner by his accent. Similar in their lilts, but Edmund vowels rolled in his tongue, not quite musical and more like going up and down as he spoke) and kicked sand in his face.

"Leave him alone!" Lorna punched Hamish, blue-grey eyes bright and fiery, red hair a halo of fire. "You're nasty and I hope you die!"

Then Lorna was pulling Edmund with her - to where, she didn't know - while Hamish cried because the girl he liked punched him and hoped he die.

* * *

Lorna Kenobi is thirteen and awkward, with her limbs too long, her face a mottled mess of and and freckles, her teeth held together by braces that made eating much more painful than it should be. Hamish teased her horribly for her lisp, her 's's turned into 't's, and Edmund always telling him off - telling him to leave get alone.

Her mood was in constant tizzy, and Hamish teasing her made her annoyance turn into anger at the right turn of words, her patience constantly spread thin then thinner.

Then, one day, a day when she woke up bathed in her own blood, blood that seeped between her legs - a sticky mess of red and black - and turned her bedsheets damp, a rite of passage - the next stage into womanhood.

It was nothing to be proud of, Lorna decided, pain eating her abdomen. It simply made her twice as impatient, angry for no reason, and what she once reserved for Hamish turned free for all.

She turned to her parents, screaming until late into the night, then to Edmund with '_Stand up fer yerself ye sad sod!'_, but still - Hamish received the worse of it, Lorna's words tore him until he was raw and screaming back.

* * *

Lorna Kenobi is sixteen, and she comes home late in the night with piercings in her ear and the smell of spice and musk in her hair. Her mother cried herself to sleep while her father matched the volume of Lorna's shouts.

Edmund was always behind Lorna, ready to catch her when she fell, and always bought her home with a lie in his silver tongue '_no sir, was just me mate, we're studying and he prolly smoked and it stuck to us. Happens all the time, innit?'_ and Lorna's parents would accept it.

Edmund who would, in a sudden flash of brilliance, pour out ideas that aimed higher than the skies and the stars above. Who worked harder when struck with inspiration, drawing and writing and building with a fervour that blazed like an inferno, as if afraid that the brilliance would fade and he would have to begin anew - like a phoenix. He never slept, afraid that a moment's rest would destroy his inspiration, fading in the wind like ashes. In a way, Edmund was right. His muse came and went, once spent, it drowned him in a deep pit of grey that made it hard to face his failures, get out of bed - _live_.

Edmund was the sun, he rose and burned and set Stewjon ablaze with light, except when set, it was with a murmur. A darkness that made no difference if your eyes were closed or not, and the night would go on endlessly until another spark of inspiration lulled him into brilliance once more.

His boyfriends and girlfriends were magnetised to that brilliance, fascinated with the intensity of Edmund's devotion. Then, when the grey descends, and his fire taken away, they grow bored, unable to comprehend the deep pit of anguish that Edmund drowned in. His whole being was -is- defined by this spark, by his brilliance, but once it faded away, so did the Edmund they knew - replaced by a stranger wearing his skin and speaking in his voice.

Then there's Hamish, with his nasty smile and attitude. Hamish who slept with anyone that said yes, his body mapped out with hands that belonged to strangers and friends, faces blurred on who fucked or who he fucked the night before. Hamish who left broken hearts and pinning beaus, who came and went like a hurricane, a force of nature in his own right. He came and destroyed everything, and would go on as he pleased, mindless of the casualties in his wake.

Hamish who drunk himself to death and would find his way in a filthy street, sleeping in his own bile and piss. Hamish who hid scars beneath his sleeves, with purple veins between his thighs, burnt by whatever drug that caught his fancy. Whatever drug that chased the empty maw gaping in his chest.

Then, one day, there was a party. Everyone in their academy that can pass off of age can come, with spice hidden in clothes and booze stolen from 'ma'h mum's cabinet' or 'ma'h da's compartment', wearing clothes that showed a little too much and made them all somehow look older. Lorna was invited, because why not?

Her legs were long and she knew it, wearing skirts that barely reached her thigh and just past her knickers, and boots that were just an inch or two above her shins. Her tits were small, but it still made men and women pine after her, just a top that barely concealed and enough to let them know what to find beneath.

Lorna slept around, sure, but she didn't leave hearts torn asunder or late night com calls asking why. She slept with whom she dated, but two weeks later or so, they're not compatible then they break it off. Those that knew her and her under the sheets did not greet her with scowls or tears, rather with terse smiles and awkward silences that stretched if neither would leave.

Then, "Lorna?" Hamish?

She didn't realise she said it out loud when his lips curved into a smile and the glint in his eyes turned challenging. Where was Edmund?

"Whit d'ye want?" Lorna drawled, bored, rage barely concealed.

Long before Hamish can open his mouth, in came Edmund, eyes bright and sharp and 'what were the two of you doing?', hands on his hips. Hamish gave Edmund a look, and it was enough to make Lorna look twice because the sneering arrogance wasn't there first, but it sure as hell was present the second.

Edmund was fidgeting, mouth set in a frown, and pity in his eyes. "We should leave," Edmund said, and Lorna said nothing.

Somehow, she ended up in bed, Edmund to her left and Hamish to her right.

She wondered, why would anyone fall for Hamish, for Edmund, or her. Then she thought about the boys and girls and anyone and everyone in between, falling in love with someone that did not love them back.

Maybe... maybe, they hated themselves enough to take love more than deserved back.

* * *

Lorna Kenobi is twenty-one, and somehow, there is an attraction.

Hamish with unsure smiles and questioning glances, beating himself up over and over again for past transgressions, of old grudges forgotten. It made him all the more attractive and harder to pin, harder to keep still.

Edmund was... In perpetual fog and grey. Eyes dull and moving through motions, a gear in the machine, a hand in the clock, or a cog in the music box. He rarely smiled and he always skipped classes, hiding in trees and sleeping the day away.

His smiles turned everything brighter, and it always seared itself into the memories of those that saw it, washing the grey away.

Lorna was... okay. Is okay.

Her temper cooled into a simmer, patience growing and screaming less, and a tentative truce with her parents. She doesn't turn heads as much as she could count the freckles on Hamish's nose.

Secondary school was strange affair five years before, a haze of bright lights and pounding music, of breathing in white crystal with filthy bills and syringes thrown in the recycling, and trembling in dark corners with no one except a comm link and a voice far away to keep her company.

Things could have been worse, could be like Simon, syringe still in hand and disbelief in his face because he took too much instead of too little, or like Mora, feet hanging in the air because a week ago she said no but the bastard pretended it was yes, or like Kieren, leaning in a rock with an army knife in hand and blood running and running and running and -

Lorna is twenty-one and in love, maybe. To Hamish? Probably. To Edmund? Perhaps.

She slept with Edmund, and then would not talk to Hamish for days, giving in when he would throw rocks in his windows under the rain. There were times she slept with Hamish, and Edmund would just know. Not speaking and more like a ghost presence, always nearby.

There were the times that Edmund and Hamish won't look at her in the eye, stuck in their own world, moon and planet orbiting around one another - and she, a distant star, far away but somehow there.

Lorna's parents were still endlessly worried, twiddling their thumbs and biting their lips, '_it's nae guid fer ye,'_ they said. "Ye shuid'nae need 'em like tha'."

But Lorna did.

And it hurt.

Lorna can't think when neither of her boys were around, her world screeches to a halt, rotation stopping and the ground beneath her feet rocking into a frenzy. Without Edmund and Hamish, or without just even one of them - she can't breathe, can't feel her heart beat and her world would turn into a blank void where neither light nor darkness existed.

Lorna has no definition without Edmund or Hamish, not whole when they're not by her side. And it hurt her to see that Edmund was not Edmund if there was no Lorna or Hamish. Hamish was a machine with no purpose without Lorna or Edmund, a nameless face with a Lorna and Edmund-shaped hole in his chest, his sternum splintered beneath his skin.

Lorna is twenty-one and two months pregnant, unsure who was the father.

Edmund said nothing, but somehow supportive in whatever decision Lorna decided to take. Hamish was ecstatic, hands around both of their waists, kissing them both on the mouth, tasting of nicotine.

The prospect of a child excited Hamish, enrolled in less subjects in uni, throwing himself into work. Found a flat good for five people to live in, enough money to feed four people thrice a day, and exhaustion creeping in once he's home.

Hamish was rather glad that Edmund was good with his hands.

Hamish threw himself into becoming a model father, a better father, who doesn't look at his son like the boy was dirt, that he wasn't a failure. The way how Hamish lived for Lorna's unborn child was just so endearing and Lorna simply did not have the heart to have an abortion, too expensive. Besides, this pregnancy thing wouldn't be bad?

Menstruation was rather like pregnancy, bloody painful, except without the screaming baby.

So Lorna took less classes, spent her time between sleeping and doctor's visits, holding either Edmund's or Hamish's hand before she closed her eyes, and ate whatever she fancied.

Then there were the times she ached for nicotine between her lips, the familiar rush of an adrenaline high when she would plunge a syringe in her arm, the booze muddling her thoughts and tilted the world and made the Lowland Air warmer than it should. There were days that she was alright without them, then there were the days that she cried from morning to night, inconsolable and anguished. Those were the worst, where the gnawing in her gut was too strong and she had to find where Hamish or Edmund hid their spices and powders and crystals, desperate and almost raving for a fix.

Then Lorna is twenty-two, lying in a bed and unconscious, tubes strapped to her arms and her boys on each of her sides. Unsure of the future.

However, this was one assurance on what will happen in the future:

Four years later, their country - Dál Riata - will attempt to colonise a certain section of their moon, but the venture will be an enormous failure that left their country bankrupt. Which prompted their monarchy to unify the country with their southern neighbours - Pritani - simply just to improve their own economies and colonise the same territories their once-rivals turned-allies have.

By then, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be halfway across the Inner Rim, on the way to the Jedi Temple.

* * *

**Notes: **Lorna and Hamish would be Glaswegian, while Edmund is from Norfolk.

Also, I had a few fandom guests 'round here. You get a spoiler if you guessed correctly.

I've taken bits and pieces of references from films like Trainspotting, particularly its theme.

On a different note… Marijuana is okay, LSD can be taken in moderate amounts (and why not?). However, cocaine, morphine, heroin, and meth are bad. Like really bad. People die from overdosing from them.

Also, check out this site because I know I barely covered the important bits about drug addiction and whatnot.

w x 3 - drugabuse . gov (/) publications (/) topics-in-brief (/)drug-abuse-prevention


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